


marijin min nar

by Annie D (scaramouche)



Category: Wishmaster (1997)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-19
Updated: 2011-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-27 12:57:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scaramouche/pseuds/Annie%20D
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Alex learns that beating a Djinn isn't a one-time deal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	marijin min nar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Dear endcredits, unfortunately I was unable to get my hands on the sequels, so this fic is based solely on the first _Wishmaster_ and doesn’t match up with the rest of the series. I do hope you enjoy it anyway, I had a blast writing it.

Once upon a time there was a girl who found a magical gem and was given three wishes.

She chose her wishes carefully and, in the end, was given her heart’s true desire.

The world exhaled its thanks.

* * *

Alex wakes up.

What hits her first is the silence – the pure, sweet silence of an unexciting world. She opens her eyes and sure enough, she’s in her boring apartment full of boring furniture and a completely boring lack of blood and pain and death.

She should be at least a little bit disoriented, she thinks, but her mind is as clear as glass. Her throat should be sore from screaming and her legs tired from running, but her body feels utterly lax, as though she’s just woken up from a long, deep sleep, and wouldn’t that be something? Wouldn’t it be nice if the past couple of days were just one really intense nightmare?

But no. Alex knows how to differentiate between nightmare and reality.

Well, if this is reality, then she’d better check it out. Alex sits up, glances at her watch, and then gets up to pull the curtains aside. Beyond the windows, passersby move about their everyday, uncaring lives.

All looks perfectly normal.

“Alex, have you seen my shoes?” Shannon bursts into the room, waving a hair curler dramatically. “The blue ones, with the silver buckles I bought the other day? I know I left them in my closet.”

Alex can’t help it. Her lungs go tight and her eyesight goes funny, and then she’s on the floor and Shannon is holding her.

“Hey,” Shannon says softly. Her body is a cradle, holding on to Alex as she shakes. They rock together like that for a while, and it’s such a familiar thing that Alex doesn’t have it in her to be embarrassed or guilty. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“Yeah,” Alex says into Shannon’s shoulder, though the word comes out more like a sob. “Your stupid shoes.”

“Whoa now,” Shannon says brightly, “Don’t you talk about my footwear that way.” And because Shannon knows Alex, she starts talking about color coordination and different kinds of padding material and how this particular pair of shoes had a design in the sole that’s going to be revolutionary.

Alex slowly relaxes. This must be real, for as good as the Djinn was at deception, he’s not good enough to fake the truth and warmth of this. She and Shannon have been here and done this for each other before.

If this is real, then it must have worked. Alex won.

“I’m good,” Alex says after a while. She pulls away, wiping at her damp cheeks. “It’s just, I—” _heard your screaming as you were burned alive, I failed you like I failed Mom and Dad_ , “—saw something that reminded me of Mom and Dad.”

“Okay.” Her sister’s eyes are sharp, but she nods. “Do you want to go out, get something to eat?”

“Yes.” Alex starts, surprised by how true that is. “Yes, please.” She gets to her feet and follows Shannon out of the house. She wants to see for herself that the world it isn’t raining blood and despair.

It isn’t.

* * *

Alex takes the time to brace herself before she sees Josh.

She waits until she’s sure, until the exact moment that Nick came into her office with the opal comes and goes, this time without a single Djinn-encrusted gem anywhere in sight. Alex had already called Beaumont earlier, of course, congratulating him on the arrival of the newest piece into his collection, but it’s still important that she be in her office, at the exact spot that it all started, to make sure that it... doesn’t.

And once that’s passed, she’s on the phone. She calls Josh at his lab and asks if he’s free, oh he is, then is he free enough to pop over for a while, maybe, there’s something she wants to show him, and then they can get lunch after?

“ _Hey, anything for you,_ ” Josh says. “ _Give me an hour._ ”

While Alex waits, her mind wanders back to how they first met during her internship, when Josh had been irritable and Alex impatient, but a friendship had forged out of those long hours of research and late night coffees and cramming anyway. So what if there had been a little flirtation on the side, a harmless crush underneath it all just kept things interesting.

Then the thing with Mom and Dad happened. Josh had been there when so many others hadn’t, he’d helped with the police reports and at the hospital despite Alex repeatedly telling him he didn’t have to. Alex had put on a strong face for Shannon but Josh had asked pulled her aside and asked, _what about you, how are you holding up_ and Alex knew right then there that Josh was more important than a stupid crush.

Josh is more important than Alex’s stupid fears, too.

“Hey,” Alex says when Josh arrives. He double-takes at her smile because to him, the tennis game and its accompanying rejection was only yesterday. Josh doesn’t know that Alex had seen him die.

“Hey, yourself,” Josh replies. He perches on the corner of her desk and beams, every inch of him wonderfully alive and whole. “What’s up?”

Second chances don’t get any more literal than this.

* * *

Alex’s checklist is pretty short. Reality: fine.

Shannon: concerned but fine.

Josh: a little heartbreaking in how cautious he’s being about the change in their relationship, but fine.

She could move on at this point. Alex knows how it works, she’s had her world ripped apart and put it back together once before. But the difference here is that no one’s actually hurt; as far as the rest of the world’s concerned, there was no Djinn let loose in a lab accident, no supernatural predator hunting in their city streets.

The only scars left behind are in Alex’s mind, but that doesn’t mean they’re not important.

The first few days, Alex spends time with Shannon, sees Josh, hugs her girls, goes back to work – all these steps deliberately taken to reiterate that things are back normal. If she wakes up gasping from nightmares at night, that’s still okay, because it’s the nightmares during the day that she should be worried about.

But what she needs, and what’s been delaying on, is getting that last bit closure. Dr. Montiglio had been quite adamant about that the last time, and though Alex had a lot of opinions about the doctor’s other advice, she agrees on the importance of closure.

So she goes to the gallery.

“I heard about your new piece,” Alex says, when Beaumont comes out to greet her. “I just thought I’d try my luck, see if I could get a glimpse before your big opening.”

Beaumont laughs, pleased and preening like a proud father. “For you, my dear, anything.” He clasps Alex’s hands warmly. “Come, let me give you the tour. Did you know I’d waited ten years for this piece?”

“That’s a long time to wait.” Alex follows Beaumont in, along the way catching a glimpse of Ed Finney, alive and yelling at someone on a cellphone, in one of the offices. “What’s so special about it?”

This sets Beaumont off, not that he’d needed an invitation. He’s enthusiastic in his telling Alex things she already knows – it’s a statue of Ahura Mazda, it’s unusual in that it was made after the arrival of Islam in Persia, the circumstances of its release from its previous owner are mysterious and clouded (not that Beaumont sweats the small things).

“And here we are.” Beaumont brings them to a halt at the mouth of the gallery.

The lighting here is deliberately soft and dramatic, casting an intimate glow upon the rows of statues and tapestries. At the far end, a stone Ahura Mazda stares back at them.

“Amazing,” Beaumont declares. “The base is chipped off in places but the detail on the face and torso are exquisitely preserved.”

He brings Alex up close, pointing out the intricate design of the eyes and crown. Alex half-listens to his description, preoccupied with wondering where the fire opal is located inside the sculpture.

Her first guess is that it would be in the head, but that's the narrowest part of the statue. If Alex were the wizard she would’ve to put the maximum amount of stone possible between the jewel and a potential thief. That would place it in chest, halfway between base and shoulders, almost but not quite where Ahura Mazda’s liver would be. If gods have livers, not that Alex is an expert on the matter.

She should be satisfied knowing that the gem is safe, but her mind races down a different, treacherous path – wasn’t it _so easy_ how the statue broke the last time, cracking in the precisely correct way to release its hidden treasure?

A darkly familiar voice slithers straight into her mind: “ _Hello, sweet Alex_.”

* * *

Once upon a time there was a girl who fought against fire.

The first time, she lost, and the fire took her parents.

The second time, she won, and the Fire was sent back to its prison.

* * *

Beaumont reacts rather well to Alex’s freak out. He pats her shoulder and only sounds a little bit uncomfortable when he asks, “Is there someone I can call?” while Alex tries her best to quell the hysterical laughter bubbling in her chest.

That wasn’t one of the Djinn’s visions. There’s no blood and terror and death flashing before her eyes, but thta voice – she’d know that voice anywhere.

“No, no,” Alex says, realizing that her feet have already taken her clear across the gallery and away from the statue. “Thank you, I just… I need some air.” Beaumont offers some awkward words of comfort but right now all she wants to do is get out of there, putting as much space between herself and that hideous thing.

“I beat it,” Alex says once she’s outside the building’s front door.

The cool air hits her face and she forces herself to look around, taking in the clear sky and busy street and people walking around uncaringly.

“It was real,” she says out loud. “I played its game and I won. The statue is whole, I saw it with my own eyes.”

“ _Keep telling yourself that, Alex_ ,” the Djinn’s voice reverberates in her mind. “ _Perhaps you might even believe it._ ”

Alex hisses, ignoring the startled looks from passersby as she presses her palms against her face. If can center herself, she’ll be able to think clearly. The sight of that statue could’ve just caused an unwanted flashback. She knows about flashbacks; she couldn’t stop smelling smoke and ash the first few months after the fire, so surely hearing an imaginary voice is lower down the ladder of things to be concerned about.

“ _The alternative explanation is far simpler, Alex_ ,” the Djinn says. “ _You are insane._ ”

Alex squares her shoulders, determined to ignore the voice, and marches back home.

 _No_ , wait, not home. The apartment is too quiet, Shannon should still be out with her friends. Alex needs something else.

* * *

“Oh, hey.” Josh is surprised when opens the door to Alex’s knocking. “I wasn’t expecting—” Alex kisses him.

She’s wondered before what it would be like to press herself against Josh and feel his arms around her. Sure, they touch a lot already – hugs and playful punches and noogies – but this is completely new territory, Josh’s body almost foreign against hers as she pushes him back into the apartment.

“Whoa, hey, pause button.” Josh pulls away and licks his lips, the familiar gesture sensual in this new context. “I thought were going to take it slow. A couple of dates, see how that rolls…”

“Why?” Alex asks, cupping his face in her hands. “What if something happens tomorrow? To me or to you, we don’t know. What if this is all we have?”

Josh’s smile drops. “What happened? What’s this about?” Just like that the mood’s ruined, Josh gone all soft and worried because they’ve been best friends too long. “You don’t need to… We don’t need that, Alex. You can talk to me about anything.”

“Can I?” Alex looks up at Josh. He will always be more dorky than handsome – even if he is quite handsome – and tries to picture his reaction to her declaring that she hears voices in her head.

“Of course,” Josh says, as though insulted that she needed to ask at all. “But only if you want to.”

“Then let’s do something else. Let’s…” Alex shrugs. “I don’t know, watch the shopping channel.”

“And make fun of the products?” Josh grins warmly. “Sure, we can do that.”

It’s good. Spending time with Josh is always good, from that early moment years ago when Josh talked trash about something – tacos in shells, Alex recalls – and she’d made it her mission to prove him wrong. They’ve come so far since then, but it’s kinda amazing how lazing on the couch together is enough for Alex’s tension to fade away. Josh follows her lead easily, arguing about overpriced items and junk people don’t really need and the salesmen’s hair pieces, and then it’s dinner time in no time at all.

“Chinese?” Josh asks.

“Roger that.” Alex leans back against the arm of the couch, tipping her head back to study the apartment ceiling.

It’s only then she realizes, it’s been hours since she’d heard the Djinn’s voice.

“What if…” Alex pauses, turning the words over in her head. “What if something really bad happened to you, but you can’t tell anyone about it?”

“Dude.” Josh is immediately at her side. Alex is startled by how angry he looks. “There’s always someone who’ll listen to you, always. Don’t ever think that.”

Warmed by the promise (even if it’s worthless here through no fault of Josh’s), Alex pulls at his wrist, sliding his arm over her shoulders. “Then what if it’s something I’m not _ready_ to talk about? I want to but I can’t, not yet.”

Josh is silent for a long moment, fingers drumming gently against Alex’s shoulder. It’s been a while since they’ve had moments like these together, not since Josh finally mended things with his Dad and Alex’s therapy with Dr. Montiglio tapered off, but there’s always been that sense of security between them – that they could find this again whenever they needed it.

“You’re a tough cookie, Alex,” Josh says at last. “But sometimes I don’t think you get just how strong you really are.” He makes a small, unhappy sound. “I can’t stand the idea of you facing something like that by yourself.”

“I don’t like it either.”.

“We can cuddle, though.” Josh sounds half-playful, half-helpless. “Platonically, of course.” Alex hears what he doesn’t say: that he can’t offer anything else unless Alex tells him what she needs.

But what Alex needs is the assurance that it’s all over. Josh can’t give her that, but…

“Fine, we can cuddle,” Alex says, laughing when Josh pretends to look put-out. “You do know I love you, right?”

Josh grins and pulls her close. “Hey, who can blame you?”

* * *

That night, the Djinn comes back.

Alex’s dreams of mutilations and monsters are terrifying on their own, but the Djinn’s voice drowns all of them out. Alex’s sleeping mind somehow knows that the Djinn is more real than any trauma-induced visions, slapping her into awareness when she hears his teasing, “ _There’s only so long you can run, Alex_.”

Her bedroom is dark, the curtains still. Alex is thankful that she’s back home, having had enough sense to not ask to sleep over at Josh’s.

The Djinn’s words still echoing in her ears, Alex goes to the kitchen for a drink. She splashes her face at the sink and presses a palm to her heart, trying to calm its frantic beat.

“I beat you,” she whispers. “I made my wish. There are no more wishes left, _I beat you_.”

Whispery laughter casts goosebumps up Alex’s arms.

 _“You don’t sound too certain_.” The Djinn’s unusual cadence of speech sets Alex’s teeth on edge. She clings to that anger, for it's a far better companion than fear. The Djinn adds, almost coyly, “ _Don’t you already have some experience getting lost in your head, Alexandra?”_

“Fuck you,” Alex snaps. “This is different. If I know anything – if I’ve learned _anything_ from what I’ve been through, it’s knowing myself.”

 _“If it pleases you to believe so_.”

Alex closes her eyes. In her mind's eye she pictures a heavy door, made of wood and metal and other unnamable things that her mind knows are able to hold these nightmares out. She pictures the Djinn locked behind the door.

“Stay there,” Alex commands.

She waits, and only silence answers her.

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a Djinn that was unhappy with the world that had been given to his people.

This was hardly unusual, since few Djinn were content with their lot, but this particular Djinn had enough cleverness and determination to find a way through.

He decided that he would not be stopped by a mere child.

* * *

Maybe it’s stupid, but Alex had hoped that the Djinn would stop talking in daylight. She’d go back to work, do her usual things and not think about the Djinn and at all, and it would stop bothering her.

“ _Don’t you think that it is too neat_?”

Alex jerks back from the microscope. Nick flashes her an irritated look, but Alex recovers quickly, pressing fingers to her temple and murmuring a “Sorry, it’s just been a long day.”

“Well, if it’s been a _long day_ ,” Nick says wryly. He doesn’t mean it to be unkind, so Alex matches that with an eyeroll of her own.

“And you already know,” Alex reminds him, “That I don’t get much done with you hovering around, Nick.”

Nick hems and haws, singing his praises and hopes for the necklace that Alex is studying, and it’s actually a relief to have him puttering around her. There’s something soothing about how harmless a presence he is, making it a contrast to the thrum Alex can fill building at the back of her head.

“ _You know why you can still hear me, Alex_ ,” the Djinn says.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Nick says, raising his hands in surrender. He winks as he makes his exit. “Just keep me posted.”

In the new silence of the room, the Djinn sounds positively gleeful. “ _You can hear me because you know, in your heart of hearts, that it isn’t over. There is something broken in your mind, for you are only human, and have seen unspeakable things. Your soul has not let it go._ ”

“Shut up,” Alex hisses.

“ _It will never let you go, not until you are dead._ ” His voice is louder now, Alex realizes. Almost as though he’s gathering strength, which implies a path she doesn’t want to think about too closely yet. “ _You are mad, Alexandra._ ”

The words are seductive, with just enough of truth to sound almost believable.

“ _Isn’t the world around you perfect? Perhaps… too perfect? Do you not look at your loved ones and wonder if they exist only because you prefer to live inside a comfortable illusion, instead of facing the truth?”_

But Alex has seen the Djinn’s trickery before.

“You’re weak,” Alex says. “You must be weak or you would have attacked by now.” She thinks back to the Djinn’s visions from before, which had been brutal and vivid as he'd shared his kills with her. While at the time Alex had only tried to bear them, in retrospect there had been something deliberately vicious about them, as though the Djinn had sent them to her on purpose.

As though to break her, before he came for her himself.

“No,” Alex declares loudly. “I won’t be afraid of you. This is real, you're a real voice in my head.”

“ _Ah, such confidence_.”

Alex closes her eyes and glares into the darkness behind her eyelids. “I dealt with you once, I can do it again, asshole.”

* * *

Wendy Derleth is still alive, still criticizes her students, still addresses Alex with casual disinterest when she goes to the school the next day asking for help.

“Can’t trust them to do anything on their own,” Wendy says, pointing at various students in an attempt to get them vaguely organized. The stage is full of them of their props. “Run around like sheep if they can get away with it.”

“I understand that your time is precious,” Alex says, “So how about I pay for it. Lunch? Anywhere you like.”

Wendy whirls on Alex, laughing brightly. “Well then. How can I refuse such an invitation?”

It’s easy to spin a reason for Alex’s wanting to be there. She knows Beaumont, she’s done appraisal work for some of his jewelry, she’s curious about Beaumont’s latest piece and was forwarded to Wendy as a local expert in the field.

“If you ask me,” Wendy says once they’re sitting in her choice of café, “Beaumont seriously overpaid for that sculpture. Man’s been fascinated with it for years, not that I ever understood it. But it’s his money, isn’t it? Wait, you aren’t here to ask me to write something for his party, are you? Extolling the virtues of that statue? Because I already told his office that—”

“No, no, nothing like that,” Alex says quickly. “I don’t work for him, I already said that. This is personal interest.”

“Why would personal interest send you all the way here?” Wendy sips her drink delicately. “Not that I don’t appreciate this extravagant spread.”

“ _You should tell her_ ,” the Djinn says. He’s been quiet all day, but Alex manages to keep a straight face in front of Wendy, betraying nothing. “ _You should say, Mistress Wendy, I’m hearing voices in my head, and I think they have something to do with a monster only I have seen._ ”

“It’s about a story I’m curious about.” Alex puts on what she hopes is a casual, intrigued expression. “Precious stones aren't just my job, they're also a passion. I love knowing the stories behind them. Have you heard of the Stone of the Secret Fire? It’s a legend from ancient Persia.”

Wendy nods. “First written about 900 years ago.”

“I know it’s said that the stone was used to trap a Djinn. That it was a sorcerer who did it.”

Surprise flits over Wendy’s face, followed by a flush of pleasure. “Yes, I'm aware of that as well, Alex – may I call you Alex? That particular legend is also unique in the sense that it’s been tied a specific object that’s gone as far as to be given a name. I’m sure you’re familiar with the fairytales of the genie in the lamp, but the older stories talked more about binding Djinn to people, not to objects.”

At the back of Alex’s mind, the Djinn laughs.

“What do you mean?” Alex asks. “What people?”

“Well, if we’re into namedropping, it’s said that King Solomon had an army of Djinn at his command. There are many other stories about humans trapping Djinn and ordering them around, but it’s rarely a good idea. Djinn are creatures of ageless malevolence and jealousy, driven by an agenda as old as time to usurp our world for their own. It requires trickery and mental strength to deal with them.”

“Yes.” Alex tries not to sound shaky. “Yes, I’d imagine.”

“You know what’s funny?” Wendy smiles, eyes practically twinkling. “The writing of that particular legend is put at about 900 years ago, which sets it at about same era and geographical origins as Beaumont’s latest acquisition. Curious, isn’t it?”

“Just a coincidence, I’m sure.”

“Hmm.” Wendy takes another sip of her drink, though she doesn't take her eyes off Alex. “That man was obsessed with that statue and could never able to explain to me why. Now I see that same determination in your eyes and I wonder if it was a good idea for him to bring that statue here at all.”

Alex tries to sound jovial, “Oh, surely you don’t think it’s cursed or anything like that?”

“I believe there are many things in this world we don’t yet know and cannot yet explain.” Wendy pauses, the same little smile that suggests she knows far more than she lets on.

Alex is tempted. She could ask about talismans and protections and the rules that govern the Djinn within and without.

“ _Oh dear_ ,” the Djinn says, “ _What would your sweet sister think_?”

“What if it was real?” Alex blurts out, almost just to spite the damn voice in her head. “What if it’s all real and that jewel is actually out there?”

“Then I hope that the sorcerer knew what he was doing,” Wendy says primly. “And that he took the precautionary measures necessary to make it as difficult as possible for the Djinn to get out.”

“What if it got out anyway?” Alex asks. “What then?”

“Besides the part where we’re all screwed?” Wendy laughs and pats Alex’s hand, the comforting gesture a response to whatever look is on Alex’s face. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to tease. To many people living today, the Djinn are indeed real. They are common figures, much like the way some of us think of angels, both of these creatures taken for granted as having been watching and influencing us since the time of creation. But Djinn cannot come into our plane, because as the belief goes, God made this world for us. The only power they have within our realm comes from what we give them.”

Alex blinks, realization clicking into place. “That’s why they need the wishes.”

“That’s one explanation, yes,” Wendy says, nodding. “Some believe that the wishes of the Djinn myth represents an agreement between the Djinn and the human who invited them into this world. They will use every honey-tongued lie they can to trick their victims into making wishes they can use as weapons.”

Alex smiles wryly. “I’ve heard that one, too.”

“You’re really not going to tell me what this is about, are you?” Wendy asks, practically grinning now. “It is about that statue, somehow.”

“Thank you so much for your time, Wendy.” Alex raises a hand, waving for the check. “You’ve been really helpful, and I hope you enjoyed that tea.”

“ _Thank you, Wendy_ ,” the Djinn sing-songs.

Wendy raises an eyebrow at Alex, though she is still in good enough spirits to let this go without argument. “Well, you know where to find me if there’s anything else you need. Good luck.”

* * *

Alex goes to the library. She browses the Middle Eastern and mythology sections using Wendy’s comments as a guide, and there she finds reams of interesting things she hadn’t had time to soak in on before: stories about the creation of Djinn after Angels and before man, the use of Djinns in sorcery and black magic, the cautionary tales of families that used inherited Djinns (which causes Alex to blanch because what the hell were they thinking, Djinns aren’t _pets_ ).

“ _You do realize what your options are now, don’t you?_ ”

Alex turns the page to continue reading. He hates it when she ignores him that, and she can almost feel his anger pulsing steadily from where he lingers at the back of her mind.

She’s not foolish enough to relax, but she’s starting to wonder if maybe the Djinn can’t do anything more than taunt.

“ _Each breath leads to the next. Have you figured it out, yet?_ ”

The Djinn’s primary agenda wouldn’t have changed. He still wants his freedom so that he can bring his brethren into the world for their big ‘ol party of blood and pain and death. As long as the opal stays locked inside the statue that won’t happen, but she can’t figure out why she can still hear him.

“ _Because I find you scintillating company_ ,” the Djinn says helpfully. “ _It is… lonely inside my prison, and though I am patient enough to wait out the centuries, there are times when… distractions are welcome. Did you read those fables of humans who lay with Djinn, not realizing the true nature of their chosen companions?_ ”

Alex clasps a hand to her mouth. “Oh god.”

“ _I would use my tongues – yes, I have more than one, and they are truly dexterous – and open up the secret places between your legs so that you may know—”_

“Shut up!” Alex shouts.

The library patrons turn to stare at her.

The Djinn says nothing, because what better way for Alex to hear her own voice echo back, shockingly loud in the otherwise silent library. Nearby a librarian frowns sharply, poised to ask her to leave if necessary.

Alex ducks her head, swallowing nausea and shame.

* * *

Alex shouldn’t have reacted. The Djinn knows now how to get to her, and it’s clear in retrospect that everything he’s said has been with one purpose: to get under Alex’s skin, to find a weakness and _push_.

“ _I shall tell you what I had planned for your sister_ ,” the Djinn says as Alex stomps into her apartment. She tosses her bags aside and turns the television way up loud, though it does little to drown out the Djinn’s gleeful, “ _She was to burn alive, of course, but only until she was just slightly singed, not yet fully mad from the pain that she cannot comprehend what is happening to her. I would then have brought her charred body to you and fucked her as you watched._ ”

“At first you tried to make me think I was making you up,” Alex says loudly. She turns on the radio to add the ambient noise. “You tried to make me think that I’m crazy and you got mad when that didn’t work, so you changed tactics.”

“ _I would have made new orifices in her, just for my enjoyment_.”

“You can’t get to the people I love, so you’re trying to get to me.”

“ _Secretly, I think you’d enjoy it. You want your sister to suffer, don’t you? She did so little when your parents died, barely cried at all while you were hanging on to your sanity by a thread. Where is the justice in that?_ ”

“What’s his endgame?” Alex clutches her head, breathing out through gritted teeth. “What does he get from this?”

“ _I would make Shannon suffer just for you, Alex. It’ll be a gift, one I know you’ve always wanted. She’s an unfeeling bitch and you know it._ ”

Alex's head snaps up. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about Shannon.”

“Who’re you talking to?”

Shannon is standing right there in the doorway and she looks – _god_ , she looks just like she did when Alex started seeing flames everywhere, on all surfaces and on everything she touched. Alex opens her mouth to insist that she’s okay, but the Djinn interrupts:

“ _There is a Djinn in my head and he wants to do wicked things to my sister’s body._ ”

“I think you better stay in tonight,” Shannon says quietly. “I’ll tell Josh you can’t make it.”

“Josh?” Alex echoes.

Shannon sighs. “You totally forgot about Beaumont’s party, didn’t you?”

“ _Do you think Joshua would have settled for sloppy seconds once he got tired waiting for you? After all, one sister is as tasty as the next, don’t you think_?”

“Yeah, I did,” Alex says weakly. She’ll have to call Josh and apologize but she can’t do that right now, now with the Djinn’s voice getting louder every second, practically pounding inside her skull now. “Tell Josh that I’m really sorry.”

“Okay, you get some rest,” Shannon says, while the Djinn cheerfully describes the best ways to flay the skin from her face.

* * *

Alex’s first instinct is to go for her cigarettes but once Shannon leaves, she takes out her yoga mat and candles instead.

She dims the lights and turns all the noise-making machines off, which the Djinn seems to take as an invitation to start talking about the tastiest internal organs he’s ever eaten. But once Alex sits down, legs folded and arms stretched, she closes her eyes and… focuses.

She’d started doing meditation ages ago, after it was recommended as a way to help her sleep. It helps now, too, and when Alex breathes slowly and goes through her countdown, she can practically feel her mind’s folding of the Djinn’s words into harmless background noise, gently swept aside.

Alex exhales.

The minutes roll by, blissfully quiet in the apartment. Alex starts to nod off a little, limbs pleasantly heavy with the promise of sleep.

That’s when the vision hits.

It isn’t like one of the Djinn’s visions, which had felt as though someone had shoved hands into her eye sockets. _This_ one is a sudden bloom of sights and sounds in her mind – one moment they weren’t there, and the next, they are.

Alex sees Beaumont’s gallery in full party mode, Beaumont himself holding court among his admirers. The Ahura Mazda statue is at the end of the main stretch of the gallery, but placed on a special dais that raises it a level off the ground dramatically.

But one of the legs is flawed and unable to hold the weight of the sculpture. It breaks, sending the statue tilting over on to its side.

“Shit!” Alex is immediately on her feet, grabbing her things and running out.

* * *

Alex breaks a couple of speed limits in getting to the gallery. By the time she arrives, guests are already being escorted out. A paramedics van is parked near the entrance, along with a police car that makes Alex move a little bit quicker.

“That’s not quite dress code, Miss Amberson,” Valentine says at the door. Before Alex can argue, he tilts his head towards the entrance and says, “Mr. Beaumont should be in the main gallery.”

Various patrons and party-goers complain loudly as Beaumont’s security staff carefully steer them out, but aside from the occasional double-take at her clothes, no one stops Alex from going straight in.

“Alex!” Beaumont exclaims when he sees her. He swoops down, barely giving Alex time to register her surroundings – the statue is indeed fallen off its dais, and there’s _debris_ , oh god – before he’s in her face, saying, “How’d you get here so fast? I only suggested to Nick that you might – never mind, you’re here. Come, come, I need you to…”

“What happened?” Alex asks.

“Terrible accident, terrible.” Beaumont brings Alex closer to the where the fallen statue has been cordoned off with safety tape. “Hopefully Ed will pull through, he’s such a stubborn fellow.”

“ _Finney_?” Alex gasps. “The statue fell on him?” She looks down.

The statue is broken. The base has snapped in four neat crisscrossing lines, revealing what looks like an air bubble in the stone, dead center. The statue would have had to fall at a specific angle for the break to happen that way. Though there were probably dozens of witnesses to the event, it’s almost laughable how staged it is.

“I don’t want to lose this,” Beaumont is saying, almost vibrating with frustration. “I waited ten years for this piece. If we move quickly, we can restore the main section and perhaps – oh, I don’t know what I’m saying, the hairline cracks would have destroyed the torso detail forever.”

There’s something on the side of Beaumont’s face. Alex can’t tell what she’s looking at or what she’s supposed to feel when she sees it. There are milky grey whispers trailing along Beaumont’s cheeks, leading up to his ears where they are thicker, almost enveloping the entire shell.

Alex knows that she’s seeing something she’s not supposed to. Which is great, it's just what she needed on top of her hearing things she's not supposed to either.

“You’ve wanted this statue for a long time,” Alex says, though Beaumont can’t hear her, what with his too busy ranting about the stupid company that made the stupid defective dais that ruined everything. “I bet you don’t even know why, but that want has been there for so long you barely notice it anymore.”

Djinn aren’t able to physically enter this world, but they can whisper suggestions across the veil. That’s how they influence people (so various books tell Alex) and she can easily fill the gaps of the painstaking process: unseen voices worked for years on unsuspecting human minds to ensure that the statue got to the right place and right time and right set of circumstances.

There is no blood on the floor. Finney had died the last time but now, according to Beaumont, he’s still alive, a leg crushed but that's the worst of it. Maybe the statue only needed a sacrifice of pain in order to break, not full-on death. And if that’s enough…

“Not on my watch,” Alex mutters under her breath. “Not again.”

“But the reason you’re here—” Beaumont says, as though suddenly remembering his audience, “—is that. If there’s good that can be salvaged from this tragic upstaging of my own party, I’m all for it.”

Alex follows the direction of Beaumont’s gesture to where a cop is standing just inside the cordoned-off area. He’s looking down at a colleague who’s poking through the pieces, but what’s important is that his gloved hand is wrapped around the fucking Stone of the fucking Secret Fire.

“That came out of the statue,” Beaumont says in a low, almost hungry voice. “Which makes it my property. Walk with me.” He marches across the room, Alex close at his heels.

The policeman is Lt. Nathanson, who naturally doesn’t remember ever meeting Alex. He introduces himself before stoically takes on the lashing Beaumont gives him, persistently unimpressed. “We’d just like to rule out foul play, sir,” Nathanson says calmly. “Your assistant did sustain a serious injury.”

Alex is far more interested in the blood red gem resting harmlessly in Nathanson’s palm. It’s not doing anything suspicious at the moment but that could change in a heartbeat.

“I would appreciate getting my property back,” Beaumont insists.

“It’s evidence.” The other cop stands up slowly. In his non-standard-issue dark shirt and jacket he looks almost made up next to Lt. Nathanson's rolled up sleeves. “We’ll be keeping it for now.”

Nathanson manages a tight smile. “This is Detective Riegert, Interpol.”

“Interpol?” Alex double-takes. “What has Interpol got to do with this?”

“Some so-called complications with the import tax and insurance, I’d wager,” Beaumont snarls. “I settled everything with the customs department, my assistant can – oh, yes, sorry – all the paperwork is in my office even as we speak and I—”

“A man almost died tonight, Mr. Beaumont,” Riegert reminds him. He holds out a plastic bag, into which Nathanson dutifully drops the opal. “You’ll have your treasure soon enough.”

“I could have a look at that,” Alex says quickly. “It could relate to the overall value of the statue. Uh. If it’s something to do with the insurance, I mean.”

Riegert gives her a slow nod. “We’ll take that into consideration, Miss Amberson.”

He and Nathanson have walked clear across when the Djinn finally speaks up. “ _There is no stopping what is inevitable, Alexandra_.”

Bastard. Of course the Djinn would be smug, he’s gotten the statue broken again, the opal is out, and just one wrong touch would have it start all over again. It won’t even be up to Alex to stop it. But Nathanson and Riegert, they have no idea what they’re in for and if Alex is _at all_ a decent human being she should warn them, who the hell cares if she’ll come off sounding crazy.

“Wait.” Alex starts towards them, “Wait, Detective, there’s something—”

“Alex!”

A man cuts in front of Alex, blocking her path. It’s only at his bewildered, “What are you doing here?” that Alex registers that it’s _Josh_. “Shannon said—”

“Not now!” Alex starts to move around him, eyes darting wildly to find Riegert and Nathanson’s backs, but she falters at Josh’s quiet, “Maybe you were right.”

“What?” Alex stops, startled. She turns to him. “What did you say – what?”

Josh shrugs. He looks pretty damn handsome in his sharp suit, though his hair’s messed up from having run his fingers through it too many times. “Nothing, nothing, you’re obviously busy—” the touch of sarcasm there makes Alex start, “—so go on.”

“Josh, what’s up?”

He pauses, watching her closely. When he seems satisfied that she isn’t going to run off, he says, “You won’t tell me anything.” Alex almost takes a step back at how angry he looks, because Josh doesn’t get angry, not like this, not at her. “Something’s been bothering you since – since that day things changed between us, and how can I not think that that’s not my fault?”

“Oh, Jesus, no,” Alex breathes, shocked that he’d think that. “It’s nothing to do with you. I know I’m acting weird and I _do_ want to tell you, but I can’t right now. I swear it’ll all blow over soon and then…”

But she doesn’t know that for sure, does she.

The Djinn doesn’t even need to say anything. Alex can feel his presence, ominous but surprisingly quiet at the back of her mind, and she is forced to face what she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge earlier. Although Alex will fight through invisible creatures and unknown magic and inconvenient cops, there are no guarantees of an endgame. Not like last time, when it should have ended with the last wish, and then didn’t.

What was it she’d read? Djinn are linked to their summoners in a promise they are bound to fulfil, whether it’s for three wishes, or servitude to a king, or protection over a family line.

What started between Alex and her Djinn – _her_ Djinn, which is terrible to think about, even if it’s true – was for the wishes, but then something changed. What Alex did with the last wish turned that promise into something else.

“ _Now you’ve got it, Alexandra._ ”

“Are you even listening?” Josh asks, and god, he sounds hurt. He takes a quick step back, his smile sad and resigned. “Go on, it’s okay. Do what you have to do, Alex, I’m sure it’s important.”

“It _is_ , Josh, I swear it is, just… just wait right here, okay. Don’t give up on me yet.” Alex moves past him, intent on finding Lt. Nathanson. She can hear Josh sigh behind her; it isn’t ideal, but it’ll have to do for now.

Nathanson and Riegert are just about to get into their car when Alex comes running up, yelling at them to wait.

“The opal.” Alex leans against the car as she catches her breath. “There are some things – may I have a look at it? It’s just a hunch, but I think it might need special handling? Beaumont asked me to run it by you, you know how he is.”

Nathanson makes a face like this is completely unsurprising information, while a bemused Riegert gamely opens up his jacket. The jewel glints alluringly inside the plastic bag when he lifts it out, and Alex’s hands twitch with the urge to just take it and run. She manages to control that urge, limiting herself to cupping the bottom of the bag and make serious faces at the stone.

“It shouldn’t be touched with bare hands.” Alex injects as much severity as she can into the order. “I’m serious. Skin contact and air damage would be terrible. In fact, it’s best to just keep it in the bag at all times.”

“You see a lot of these, do you?” Riegert asks.

“Some, yes.”

“Don’t worry, Miss Amberson.” Riegert's mouth quirks, a quick flash of a polite smile. “We’ll take your advice seriously.”

He has a pleasing smile. There's nothing physically wrong with it, but Alex feels a sudden, inexplicable chill at the sight.

“That’s mine,” Alex hears herself say. She barely recognizes her own voice, low with fierce possessiveness. “You have no right.” There’s something wrong with Riegert’s eyes, and an unknown visceral instinct in Alex whispers a warning.

“I’ll take good care of this treasure.” Riegert stands so still, as though he's trying to keep himself as unobtrusive as possible. “I promise I won’t let anything happen to it. That would be a terrible shame.”

There’s weight in that promise but Riegert’s easy demeanor rankles Alex, as if he’s making a joke at her expense. There's little else she can do, though, so she lets them go. She’s done her part, warned them as much as she could without pushing too hard.

The Djinn is strangely silent throughout.

“Are you done moping around or what?”

Alex turns in direction of Shannon’s voice. Her sister looks as unimpressed as she sounds. “Oh, oh right,” Alex says. “Where’s Josh?”

“He went off.” Shannon raises an eyebrow at Alex’s visible surprise, and then sighs heavily. “I’m not even going to bother with you. Let’s just get out of here. And we’re visiting Ed once we can, don’t even try to argue out of that one.”

* * *

Once upon a time, there was a Djinn who successfully fulfilled the covenant of the gem.

He gave the waker her three wishes, but the trickery of the last wish caused him to be sealed back.

That is not supposed to fucking happen.

* * *

Shannon gives Alex the stink-eye the whole ride back, but doesn’t comment about what she may or may not know about the Josh situation. Instead she talks about Beaumont ( _Raymond_ , as Shannon calls him) and the unfortunate accident that she’s understandably still freaked out about – _god, the way Ed screamed, it was… unspeakable_.

“ _Curious choice of words, that._ ”

Alex gives Shannon a quick hug before they adjourn for the night. That should be it, really, but Shannon pauses just before entering her room and says, “Why’re you afraid of dipping into the adult pool Josh? It’s not just the _better as friends_ bullshit you keep using.”

Somehow, tonight, it’s all perfectly clear. “It almost killed me when we lost Mom and Dad,” Alex says. “I thought the idea of losing Josh’s friendship would be… I was afraid I wouldn't have anything left. But that’s deflective bullshit as well.” The memory of Josh’s dead body has yet to fade.

Shannon studies Alex thoughtfully. “Then what’s wrong now?”

“I’ll deal with it.” Alex knows it’s true the moment she says it. “It’s just some… complications, but I’ll deal with it. Minor setback, definitely.”

The Djinn makes a low, amused sound, but Alex ignores him.

* * *

Later, she dreams of the Djinn again.

Not just a voice this time, but a face. His true face, in all its oozing hideousness, stares back at her from the opposite side of a table. On the table itself is a tea set, both their cups filled, though there’s no way in hell Alex is going to find out what that amber liquid is supposed to be.

“A minor setback?” the Djinn says. He appears as she remembers, dark and gruesome, tentacles trailing down his shoulders and eyes glowing on an unearthly color. Yet, there is something different, for Alex remembers that the last time she’d been unable to look at him for very long without her eyes watering. That's no longer the case. “We have driven sturdier men to the abyss of insanity with very little effort.”

“I’m sure you have.” Alex does not blink. She feels like a tree with deep roots, unmovable. “But like you said, I have some experience with that.”

“Then know, dear Alex, that you will never behold peace in your life ever again.” The Djinn plucks at his sleeve delicately, and Alex realizes that he’s wearing a mockery of Josh’s jacket. “You have already started driving your loved ones away, and it will not be long before it is complete. This is all your doing, not mine. I even tried to show you the way out, but you were not receptive.”

“The only way out for something like this is death.” Alex scowls at the Djinn’s faint smile. “You were trying to get me to kill myself?”

“It is as it is.” The Djinn brings a cup of tea to his mouth, sipping delicately. The gesture is a teasing reminder of Wendy, maybe. “I rest here until released.”

“Then you’re stuck in this as much I am,” Alex points out. “I know your limitations, I know you have no idea what’s going on, and I know that you don’t want to be here anymore than I do.”

There’s a palpable rush of wrath from the Djinn, though his only physical movement is the narrowing of his eyes. “You are beneath the dirt that is eaten by the insect. You were created flawed—”

“Yet God commanded you to bow before _us_.” Now the Djinn looks _pissed_. They work by seduction and torture, but this one can do neither. “It’s your own pride that got you where you are, you sad, impotent son of a bitch. That must kill you. Except for the whole part where you can’t die, sorry about that.”

The Djinn unfold his wings.

Terror abruptly floods Alex, her dreamspace body frozen as she is made to see in the Djinn’s full form.

The Djinn is mighty and ancient beyond comprehension. Alex is tiny and helpless and she’s going to die horribly—

“I will be your waking nightmare,” the Djinn promises. “You will hear me always, see me always, smell and taste me always. You know that I’ve been getting stronger, and soon all your senses will only know... me. I will do this, and you will wish you had ended your life when you had the chance.”

—but this is _Alex’s_ place, isn’t it? Djinn are powerful, but from the very beginning mankind has been given ways to stop them, it’s only a matter of figuring out how, isn’t it?

Alex wakes up before she can figure out a comeback.

* * *

It’s hard to get anything done under the looming knowledge that the opal is out there. Alex can’t go back to sleep, too taut with nerves thinking about the breaking of the statue, waiting for a sign that doom is upon them. She gets up and tries to keep herself busy with laundry, cleaning, sorting things in the kitchen that didn't need sorting in the first place.

At the back of her mind, the Djinn hums idly, almost bored.

In the late morning Shannon takes one look at Alex and gives up, declaring that she’s going out and Alex should get on her to-do list, _hint-hint_. Alex agrees, actually, but she’d make things worse with Josh if she went to him while she’s too busy worrying if the end of the world is upon them (again).

The thing is, she knows she’s made mistakes before. She can see all of them laid out in her mind’s eye, how she’d held back from things that could’ve hurt her, how she’d stopped taking risks (even worthwhile ones), how she’d confused complacency for safety. Though maybe it’s wrong to think of them as mistakes; Alex just wasn’t ready, then. She certainly feels ready now, because by whatever miracle of the world she’s been given two of the most ridiculous second chances, and how can Alex look herself in the mirror if she wastes what she’s been given? Mom and Dad would have words to say about that.

There has to be something she can do. Some way to settle this so that she can go on with her life.

Ideally, the first thing on her agenda would be to get her hands on the opal. The best case scenario is that it’s locked away in some dusty evidence room, but if the Djinn could’ve orchestrated the statue’s breaking, then surely it’s nothing to lure some unsuspecting detective to pick up the gem.

Alex could go to the station, try her luck. Better than hanging around doing nothing.

So she dresses up and goes out.

She makes it down two blocks before she bumps into Detective Riegert.

“Miss Amberson.” He'd been leaning against a car, but pushes himself off it when he sees her, coming to an odd parade rest as he approaches. Behind him Lt. Nathanson is inside a pawn shop talking to the man behind the counter, so by all accounts this should be just a coincidence.

Sure.

“Detective Riegert.” Alex nods at him. “Busy day.”

“Apparently so.”

“You wouldn’t happen to…” Alex trails off uncertainly. “I guess it’s too much to hope that you’ve come to a conclusion so quickly, have you?

“Perhaps.” Again, there's something’s wrong with Riegert’s face. His physical face is there, but on top of it the angles and shadows keep moving, as though trying to keep Alex from making out what he really looks like. Her whole body tenses up with the urge to run away, which Riegert seems to find amusing. “Are you free right now? Of course you are, you were looking for me. Aaron will be preoccupied for a while, so we may have a chat.”

“You know what it is,” Alex blurts out. “The opal. You know.”

“Of course I know.” Riegert steps forward, pale hands spread out in a placating gesture. The Djinn is so quiet in Alex’s mind, but it’s not the quiet of being unable to speak – it’s the quiet of someone listening very closely. “Come with me, Alex.”

There’s something dreamlike about the way that Riegert steers Alex towards the coffee shop just next door, a convenient table available out front for them to sit. It occurs to Alex to put up a token protest but she’s busy parsing the knowledge that _someone else knows_. It hadn’t occurred to her that it would be possible, she’d accepted that this would be something only for her to keep.

“It’s quite a concern, you see,” Riegert says once they’re seated. They’re promptly served two cups of hot coffee, not that he’d made an order. “There are many checks and balances that keep the worlds in order, and sometimes a little direct observation is necessary.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Alex ignores the cup of coffee that Riegert helpfully pushes towards her. “You know about the Djinn.”

“His name’s Demera, if you’re curious.” Riegert reaches into his jacket and pulls out the gem, still in its plastic sheath, and sets it on the table. “That’s only a portion of his full name, most of which you’d be unable to say with your human tongue.”

“Oh my god, you’re actually a _cop_.” Alex lets out a peal of giddy laughter. Riegert doesn't seem to be offended. “Checks and balances – what does that make you, a _supernatural_ cop? Making sure that some Djinn doesn’t tip the scales and cause the end of the world?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“Then where were you when he got out?” Alex asks angrily. “Why was it up to me to stop him?”

“Because it’s always up to humanity to save itself.” Riegert becomes less human the more Alex looks at him, his eyes too cold and seeing too much. “No one’s going to do it _for_ you, where's the sense in that? Some of us may be tempted to interfere, but it’s in everyone’s best interest for things to stay the way they are. For now.”

There’s a sudden burst of anger at the back of Alex’s mind. She doesn’t understand the words, but she’s pretty sure that that’s the Djinn swearing.

“Three wishes were fulfilled,” Riegert says, “Yet it’s also true that three wishes were never fulfilled at all. Complete and incomplete, done and not, one and zero. Schrödinger’s Djinn, as it were. It’s quite clever, if you’d known what you were doing.” He sounds far too pleased with himself when he says, “You invoked him, but he was unable to complete his covenant with you.”

“But what does that _mean_?”

Riegert looks down pointedly at the jewel, its blood-red surface glistening with unspoken promises. He raises a long finger at Alex in a _watch this_ gesture, and then taps the gem gently.

It cracks into two neat pieces. After a brief dramatic pause, the pieces crumble into dust.

“What the—” Alex breathes, while the Djinn screams.

The Djinn named Demera screams like it’s the end of the world.

It’s quite strange, really. Alex can feel desperate blood-thirsty rage slam into her like a wave, but it’s not _her_ rage, so she stands above it, curious and detached. So this is what it’s like to be consumed by malice and envy. This is what it’s like to have unlimited power, and only able to use it within very specific circumstances. (God must have a sense of humor, at least.) The frustration would drive any creature mad, even the ones that were designed to be immortal from the very beginning.

Then, in the non-space that is the landscape of Alex’s mind, another voice says: _STOP._

The word is like iron and earth. Demera yells his rage at the unwanted command, spitting curse after curse as new chains bind tight and true, and all Alex can feel left behind is a muffled, glowing burn of intense displeasure.

Alex snaps back into awareness.

Sitting across from her, Riegert watches her patiently.

Alex starts to ask him how he did that, but stops. The answer is so close, she just needs to reach for it. “The magician Zoroaster imprisoned the Djinn in a stone,” Alex says slowly, turning the idea over in her head, “But I undid that. My last wish messed up the mechanism somehow and now the Djinn is imprisoned in… me?”

“Well done.” Riegert isn’t the kind to applaud, so he merely inclines his head in acknowledgement. “You are his waker eternal. It’s only by granting wishes that he can ever be set free, but he can't offer you any more of them. That makes you a lock, Alexandra Amberson.”

“But how – but if – I can’t…” Shock makes Alex’s hands tremble on the table top. “How do I fix this? Can you make him a new prison?”

“Me?” Riegert frowns, clearly affronted. “What did I just say about interfering? You don’t want to deal with him, then let him go. Then he’ll be someone else’s problem.”

“That’s not fair.”

Riegert flashes far-too-white teeth. “Do you really want to start that? _You_ trapped him there, Alex, and you did it out of sheer terror of what he would do to your world if unleashed. The spell in the opal was already weakened because of your last wish, but you used that unexpected bond to create a whole new prison for him. Out of sheer force of will, too! That’s practically the oldest magic your kind has.”

It sounds insane, but so do many other things that have happened to Alex lately. She wants to protest that she has no idea what she’s doing, she’s not Zoroaster or Solomon, she’s just someone who was at the wrong place at the wrong time.

“As tends to happen to a lot of people,” Riegert agrees. “You are hardly unique, Alex. You’re one of many who guard the secret edges of your world.”

“Like you?” Alex asks.

Riegert laughs. There’s a sharp undertone in the sound, like fine scratches on a glass surface. There’s the same effect when Alex looks directly at him, like she’s seeing him but not _all_ of him.

“You will see others who are already like you, or have the potential to see things the way you do,” Riegert says. “You can already recognize when someone’s been touched by the otherworldly.” He gives her a pointed look, and Alex remembers Beaumont, who’d been manipulated by the Djinn, how his face and ears had been marked.

Alex has to know. “What are you?”

“Depends on who you ask, isn’t it?” Riegert answers, smiling at some private joke. If Alex squints, she can almost see wings, four on each side of a body too big to be contained by Riegert’s tasteful black jacket. “And with that, I think I’ll take my leave. Busy schedule, you know how it is.”

“But…” Alex almost grabs him but stops herself at the last moment. “But what do I _do_?”

Riegert raises an eyebrow. “Will you let him go?”

“What? No!” Alex exclaims. She can feel the Djinn hiss his displeasure, but it’s easy to shutter him off, adding another layer to the mental cage she’s been building in her mind. “If that’s what it takes to keep everyone safe then... yeah. I’d do anything I can to make sure it stays that way.”

And it’s true, Alex realizes. Fear of the gem falling into the wrong hands would’ve clung to her like a shadow, and as insane as this arrangement is, the Djinn is somewhere she can watch. With the opal gone he won’t be able to influence anyone else.

“Then that is your choice.” He gets up, pulling his gloves back on. (Gloves in summer, seriously?)

“I can do it, though, right?” Alex asks. “I mean… That’s why you here, to make sure that I can. You don’t want him getting out either, do you?”

“No.” Riegert says that very quietly, but Alex shivers anyway. “That would be… unfortunate. I think you could do well as a guardian, Alex. In my experience there are very few true coincidences in the world, so it was probably you, specifically, for a reason.”

Alex doesn’t actually see Riegert walk away. She’s too busy thinking of exactly what kind of utter insanity she might’ve just signed away her life for, but what are the alternatives? Between the invasion of the world and the use of one person’s head as a supernatural padlock, it’s kind of a no-brainer.

“You thought he was going to help you,” Alex says under her breath. “He wasn’t an Angel, was he?” _Depends on who you ask_ , he’d said. “Okay, maybe it’s better if I don't know.”

He'd said that there are others like her. Maybe in time, Alex can find them.

Anyway, Alex knows her opponent now. Alex is stronger than she ever thought she could be. Alex wouldn't want to give this burden to anyone else unless she were certain they could take it.

 _Suck it up, asshole_ , Alex thinks at the Djinn. She will find a way to live with this because there’s a chance that she can. She wants it bad enough. _Suck it up, Alex._

* * *

As soon as the door opens, Alex says, “First of all, I’m sorry.” Josh double-takes, clearly not expecting to see her again so soon, but she presses on, “I’m sorry I’ve been acting weird, but I swear to you on everything that is good and holy that I wasn’t acting weird _because_ of you. You are one of the best things that’s ever happened to me in my entire life, Joshua Aickman, and if I lose that without a fight I don’t know what I’d do with myself.”

Josh mouth opens, and closes. He slowly leans out of the apartment and looks both ways, as though checking for hidden cameras. “Um.”

Alex takes a deep breath. “I almost lost you in a big way. Like, I had a Christmas Carol vision of what my life could be like without you, and that made me… fine, it just wasn’t very nice. And maybe I pushed too hard, too fast, but I do want it. And you’re right, if we are to be more than best friends, I need to let you in. I can’t promise to do that right now, but I’m ready to start trying.”

Josh just keeps staring at her.

“Come on,” Alex says anxiously, “Put a girl out of her misery, will ya?”

“A Christmas Carol, really?” Josh is smiling, though, and Alex almost sobs with relief. “The Ghost of Christmas Future made a stop by your apartment during his break to pick up some sunscreen?”

“Something like that.” Alex can’t help grinning widely when Josh takes her hands. “But maybe you’re right, too. We should take this slow, because you’re my best friend first of all and…”

What was it Riegert had said – Alex would start to see other people like her who could see things, or had the potential to? Because there’s a bright sheen over Josh’s eyes that Alex is pretty sure hadn’t been there before, and it’s not the greyish mark of the Djinn that Beaumont had had, but something clean, almost hopeful.

Alex is just starting to figure the vocabulary of the world she’s been let into, but the first, _ridiculous_ meaning that occurs to her is that this a sign that one day Alex will be able to tell him everything.

Josh hums thoughtfully. “You need to answer a very important question. Am I the wind beneath your wings?”

“At the risk of sounding completely off my rocker,” Alex says quietly, “Yes. You’re one of my anchors, _yes_.”

It’s completely insane. Alex has walked through fire twice, come out slightly less in touch with the real world each time afterward (or more in touch, depending on how you look at it), and the most bizarre thing of all is that she can see a palpable future coming out out of this. She can see herself learning to love and let herself be loved in ways she hadn’t allowed before, and she can herself building a new life on top of what she has to do.

The Djinn burns low embers of anger at the back of her mind, but that no longer frightens her. Someone has to do it, so why not her? She will do her best to take it, and she will fight for the safety of her loved ones.

* * *

Once upon a time, the only way to fight a Djinn was to use magic.

But what is magic, really, but having clever words and the conviction to bear them?

The girl had plenty of both.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a transliteration from verse 55:15 in the Qur’an: “ _wa khalaqal janna min marijin min nar_ ” (“And He created the djinn from a _flame of smokeless fire_ ”).
> 
> This fic features a cameo especially for endcredits, because the character seemed like the natural deus ex machina (kind of) for this story. John Riegert, aka the occasionally helpful Satan, is from _The Prophecy: Uprising_.


End file.
